The Birds of Aristophanes | ||
118
SCENE IV.
Pisthetærus, Chorus , Herald.Pisthetærus.
Strange if this herald we have sent to men
Should ne'er return again! But here he comes.
Herald.
O Pisthetærus, excellent Pisthetærus!
O thou discreetest, wisest, famousest, most blest!
O bid all here give hearing.
Pisthetærus.
Well! What sayst?
Herald.
Thee with a crown of gold do crown and honour
All people for thy wisdom's sake.
Pisthetærus.
Accepted.
But wherefore honour me the people thus?
Herald.
O thou, that hast a city most illustrious
Founded i'th'air, thou know'st not all the glory
Thou'st gain'd from mortals, nor how many lovers
Thou of this place hast won; for till the founding
Of this state all were Lacedæmon-mad,
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Acted to the life the part of Socrates,
Bare Spartan staffs; but now they have turn'd about,
And are grown bird-crazy; mimicking through pleasure
Whate'er the birds do. First, as soon as day dawns,
All fly together to the courts, like us;
And in a herd they flutter to the leaves,
And peck and feed away upon decrees
Most lustily. Nay, to such a pitch of frenzy
Is this bird-mania grown, that many of them
Have got fowl names: one fellow, a limping vintner,
Is nicknamed Partridge; and as to Menippus,
He is entitled Swallow; Opuntius
Is Raven the one-eyed; Philocles, Lark;
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Chærephon, Bat; and Syracosius, Magpie.
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By th'name of Quail, since he's most like a quail
That by a game-cock has been maul'd and batter'd.
Then for the songs they all sing, not one's made
Without some swallow in it, or some widgeon,
Or may be goose or stockdove; or at least
They manage to bring in something about wings
Or pinions, be it never such a scrap.
So matters go on there. But I can tell you
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Or upwards, coming here to beg for wings
And talons; so that from some where or other
Wings must be had for these new colonists.
Pisthetærus.
By Jove, then, we've no business to stand here.
Quick, quick; as many baskets as thou find'st,
And all the boxes, fill brimfull of wings.
Let Manes fetch the wings out. I meantime
Shall be ready to receive them as they come.
Chorus .
Our city soon may bear the style
Of populous.
Pisthetærus.
So Fortune smile.
Chorus .
The ardour for our city grows.
Pisthetærus.
Bestir thee; for no time's to lose.
Chorus .
What is not here that men seek most
Who settle on a foreign coast?
Wisdom and Love; the Graces three;
Ambrosia, and Tranquillity,
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Holy calm around the place.
Pisthetærus.
How sluggishly thy work is done!
Wilt thou not budge? Wilt thou not run?
Chorus .
Bear some one quick a pannier full
Of wings. This fellow is too dull.
Go thou, and make him stir for us,
The doltish ass—lay on him thus.
Pisthetærus.
Right, 'tis but Manes; never spare:
The coward slave was made to bear.
Chorus .
First lay the wings in order all;
Together place the musical;
Next the prophetic; and last these
Adapted to the billowy seas.
Then carefully each comer scan,
And dress in fitting plumes the man.
Pisthetærus.
Yea, by the screech-owls, but I can hold off
No longer, seeing thee so slack and lubberly.
[Beats Manes.
The Birds of Aristophanes | ||